


you're gonna make mistakes (you're young)

by ohmcgee



Series: little beasts [63]
Category: Batman Beyond, Batman Beyond 2.0 (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Thieves, Drug Use, Face Sitting, I? HAVE NO? IDEA? WHAT? THIS IS?, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 09:54:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4300284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmcgee/pseuds/ohmcgee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“If you’d heard anything about me,” Bruce says, following the brief flash of tongue over his lips. “You would’ve known better than to try and break into my house.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're gonna make mistakes (you're young)

**Author's Note:**

> This is. I don't know what this is. An AU of an AU based on [little beasts](http://archiveofourown.org/series/271950) maybe? You tell me.

“I’m getting too old for this,” Bruce says, grabbing the kid by the hood of his jacket and pressing him up against the wall, one arm across his chest, barrel of his gun pressed up against his throat. “How did you get in my house?”

The kid grins, stretches his neck and bares his throat, squirms against him. “Your security system’s weak titty,” he says. “I could’ve hacked that when I was ten.”

“And you’re what, now,” Bruce says, dragging the barrel down the column of the kid’s throat. “Twelve?”

“Way I hear,” the kid wets his mouth. “That’s how you like ‘em.”

“If you’d heard anything about me,” Bruce says, following the brief flash of tongue over his lips. “You would’ve known better than to try and break into my house.”

“Yeah well,” the kid says, shrugs, looks past Bruce at the clock on the wall. He’s a little jumpy, a little wired, has a mouth like Jason’s and eyes like Dick’s. “I got bored. You gonna kill me or what?”

Bruce doesn’t kill him. He takes him in the kitchen and says _talk_ as he pulls the biggest knife he owns out of butcher’s block and starts chopping up vegetables. 

Turns out the kid’s name is Terry and he can’t sit fucking still, moves from the barstool to the counter to the kitchen table, then back to the counter as Bruce juliennes a bell pepper, telling him step by step how he cracked his security system and Bruce is...impressed. It’s been a long while since anyone has managed to get through his front door undetected, since anyone’s had the balls to even _try_ , and he should probably be giving this kid the beat down of his life, but --

he’s making him breakfast instead.

Jay would tell him he’s fucked up, say _aww B, if you miss me all you have to do is ask,_ but Jay’s not here and Bruce will never ask.

He serves Terry an omelet with ham and mushrooms, peppers and onion, says, “Eat,” and Terry doesn’t sit down, just shovels the food in his face while he stands at the counter. He’s too skinny, too fidgety, the sharp point of his hipbones sticking out where his jeans have slipped off his hips, and Bruce wonders when he last ate something that didn’t come out of a bottle and said Adderall across the front of it. 

After he finishes eating Terry leaves his plate on the bar, half the omelet still sitting there, walks up and pushes his fingers right into Bruce’s hair.

“I think you’re old enough to be my dad,” Terry says, scratches his nails through Bruce’s salt and pepper beard, then gets his tongue in his mouth.

“Mm,” Bruce says. “I hope you don’t kiss him like that.”

“Nope,” Terry says. “Too dead,” and Bruce --

Bruce grabs Terry's chin between his fingers, crushes their mouth together until Terry _whimpers_ , bends him over the kitchen table and yanks Terry’s jeans down. He’s so skinny they come all the way off without even having to be unzipped or unbuttoned and Bruce gets down on his knees on the hard tile, squeezes Terry’s ass and fucks his tongue into him.

He’s getting too old for this, probably, fucking teenagers in his kitchen at three in the morning, but Terry doesn’t seem to mind, makes the kind of noises that Bruce likes, all high and desperate, spreads all the way out for him and _begs_ for it, grinding back against Bruce’s face as he eats him out. He comes with three of Bruce’s fingers inside of him, Bruce’s teeth digging into his shoulder as he hits Terry’s prostate with each sharp thrust, covering Terry’s mouth with his hand when he screams and makes a mess all over the table cloth. 

They fuck upstairs, in Jason’s old room because Bruce is in the process of repainting his, and afterward Terry sits on his face, comes again with Bruce’s tongue inside of him, clawing at the walls and swearing like the words have new meaning. He falls asleep for a couple of hours after that, not long enough for it to have been restful, and wakes Bruce up with his mouth on his cock, a bottle of pills spilled over on the nightstand, and cartoons blaring on the tv. 

“You know that painting in your living room?” Terry says after Bruce comes all over his face, licking at the corner of his mouth, then crawls up Bruce’s chest and starts jerking off. “They’re going to have the original at some art show in town this week.”

“Mmhm,” Bruce says, drags his thumb across Terry’s chin and pushes his come into Terry’s mouth. 

“I could steal it for you,” Terry says, his eyes lighting up like a muzzle flash, whining in the back of his throat when he works his hand faster. “I’m _good_.”

“I know,” Bruce says and reaches behind Terry, pushes two fingers inside of him and Terry moans, hips jerking, and makes a mess all over Bruce’s mouth. 

 

***

A week later Bruce is in the living room staring at the painting on the wall and Terry’s in his lap, sweat beading down his throat as he fucks himself on Bruce’s dick. He’s so high he’s practically vibrating with it, has been riding Bruce’s cock for so long Bruce has no idea how he’s lasted this long, won’t stop telling Bruce how _good_ he feels. 

Jason walks in about the time Terry starts begging Bruce to fuck him harder, dufflebag over his shoulder that could be filled with money, could be filled with weapons. Bruce is never sure with him anymore. 

“Nice,” Jason says and for a minute Bruce thinks he means _Terry_ , but then Jason’s getting up close to the painting, inspecting it all over, then he turns to Bruce and raises an eyebrow. The betrayal pinching his features twists something up inside of Bruce he didn’t even know was there anymore. “Thought you were getting too old for this.”

That’s when Terry throws his head back and lets out this deep, earth-shaking moan, like he’s completely oblivious of Jason standing there, digs his fingers into Bruce’s shoulder as he comes and Bruce can’t take it another second, grabs Terry’s hips and grunts into his shoulder.

“Guess not,” Jason mutters as Terry grabs Bruce’s face and licks at his mouth, buries his hands in Bruce’s hair and fucks his tongue down his throat. When Bruce finally tears his mouth away from Terry Jason’s gone and there’s a knife stabbed straight through the canvas.

“Rude,” Terry says.

“It’s okay,” Bruce tells him and runs his fingers through Terry’s hair. “You’ll get me another one.”


End file.
